


Below Zero

by vexutopia



Series: Gideon’s Nepotism [4]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotcher - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Hurt, Hurt Spencer, Hurt Spencer Reid, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Protective Derek Morgan, Psychological Torture, Spencer Reid - Freeform, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Spencer gets kidnapped, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexutopia/pseuds/vexutopia
Summary: Events with Robin Carter.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid
Series: Gideon’s Nepotism [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047139
Comments: 15
Kudos: 50





	1. With Spencer

**Author's Note:**

> T/W: Torture. ROBIN IS VERY HOMOPHOBIC AND TRANSPHOBIC IN THIS CHAPTER, YOU CAN SKIP THIS ONE BC IT'LL BE BRUSHED OVER LATER!

When Spencer’s eyes peeled open, he found himself shivering. He felt the tenderness of his skin sink into something wooden, and it only took a moment for him to realize he’d been tied to a chair. God. No, no, no. He lifted shaking, slim hands to his nose to wipe away– blood? Or snot? He couldn’t tell. All he could register was the fear that traveled from the pit of his stomach, up to his throat— to fill his mind to its brim. He swore, swore to God he felt it swimming out his ears, bleeding down his neck and covering his form, but his skin was stark white, with a blue tint. That’s right, he was shivering.

“You're awake. I didn’t think you’d be awake so soon,” Robin’s voice echoed through the mostly empty cabin, “Can you guess where we are? Can you use that big brain of yours, smart ass?”

Robin’s strong hands grabbed his shoulders, and he pulled him to his feet. Spencer realized he was taller, though not by more than a few centimeters. His eyes flickered slightly downward to look at Robin, who felt so large at that moment, making him feel so small. So stupid. Robin threw him back into the seat, and Spencer coughed at the bluntness of the wood that hit his back, and he began coughing. Robin slid a hand through his hair and yanked his head back, sneering at him.

“You're not like Liam. You’re ugly. Like Abigail. Like Cody.”

“Do you expect to get away with this?” Spencer asked, holding in his cough.

“No. But I’ll kill you, then I’ll kill myself, then your friends will be without a friend and without justice.”

“Was this your plan?”

Robin shrugged, “It took me a second to realize you were a f-g. You’re used to hiding it, huh?”

Spencer shrugged. Robin let go, then walked over to a table. Spencer couldn’t see very well, it was dim after all, but he watched Robin’s fingers caress something on the tabletop. Slowly he lifted his hand, and he turned to look at Spencer, with all the animosity in the world filling his eyes.

“Do you know what this is?”

Spencer nodded.

“Do you think it will hurt? As much as you expect, I mean.”

Spencer shrugged.

When the leather hit his skin, he gasped, pain shooting through his leg, and emotions ripped through him. Anger. Regret. Anguish. Again the riding crop hit him, over and over, until red stripes covered his legs and the blood was sticking around his thighs. It hurt, more than he thought, and Robin was strong, but Spencer already knew that. He could not stop the tears. It hurt like Hell. Like someone was tearing through his skin, and Robin was sporadic yet meticulous, hitting the same spots with such a brute force, and Spencer cried out, begged him to stop, released God-awful groans and grunts of weakness, and Robin laughed. Laughed and laughed, as if Spencer’s tears and pained expression were funny. Finally, it stopped, and Spencer leaned back against the chair, breathing roughly, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if he were trying to block the whole world out.

“Do you think you could last long, f-g? Abigail lasted the longest.”

“Marvin,” Spencer corrected, “Use his name.”

“You’re so stupid. Do you think I’d respect her? After I shaved her head? After I killed her?”

Spencer sniffed, then furrowed his brows, “Marvin’s head wasn’t shaved.”

“It was,” Robin grabbed something off the table, and approached Spencer with it, “Yes, it was.”

“No, you didn’t shave his head,” Spencer sat up a little, “Marvin’s head wasn’t shaved.”

“It was!” Robin grabbed a fistful of Spencer’s hair and yanked his head back again, harder.

Spencer felt something cold wrap around his neck, and Robin snapped the lock at the end, having little regard for loose strands of hair that got stuck. Spencer made a sound of discomfort, then the blood drained from his face when he felt a piercing feeling between his collarbones. The Heretics Fork had been something he’d read about, seen in a few museums, and now, an item labeled as one of the cruelest torture devices was being used on him. He spoke through his teeth.

“Tell me what you did to Marvin.”

“What I did to everyone else. I tortured her. Shaved her head.”

“And?”

“Nothing. Nothing that concerns you.”

“Did you r*pe him?”

“Never.” Robin sounded disgusted, “She mutilated her body. I wore gloves when I killed her.”

Spencer bit back a scream when Robin hit the top of his head, the pressure sending the edges of the spikes through his skin.

“If I untied you and let you fight for your freedom, do you think you’d win?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer whispered, after a beat of silence.

“I don’t think you could.” Robin hit him again.

“Please,” Spencer began to cry, and Robin paused.

To Spencer’s surprise, Robin removed the thing from his neck. The kindness did not last long, because very suddenly he raised his hand that wielded the elongated, metal fork and stabbed it right into Spencer’s thigh. This pulled a scream from the young agent. It tapered off into sobs, and he cursed under his breath, then tried to move his thigh away. Robin walked away, and Spencer’s shaking hands touched the weapon sticking out of his leg. The ropes he felt wrap around him were an afterthought, until they came a few times around, tight, like Morgan’s hug, only worse. 

Now he couldn’t move.

Robin pulled the fork out. Spencer stopped counting after the third time Robin stabbed him. It all became too much. The sticky, thick feeling of the blood that soaked his thighs, hands, and arms was too disorienting to focus on. Instead, he welcomed slumber.


	2. With JJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's okay!

It was the tea. The goddamned tea. She knew she shouldn’t have drunk it. She’d stumbled out of the home after shoving Miss Carter, and she’d glanced back to watch the woman smack her head against the coffee table. She’d fainted in the yard. When she awoke, she heard the beeping of the heart monitor. Emily was at her side. JJ shifted, and Emily stood, helping her.

“Shit. You alright?”

“Got a splitting headache, but yeah, I’m fine.” She paused, “Where’s Reid?”

“Missing. They think Robin Carter has him.”

JJ was quiet for a moment, “Where’s Miss Carter?”

“She hasn’t woken up. Her coffee table was real oak. You knocked her out good.”

JJ laid down slowly. She brought her arms up to shield her eyes, and Emily walked over to the blinds and closed them. It got rid of the sunlight, and Emily flicked off the room light before returning to JJ’s side. The blonde sighed and turned slowly to look at Emily as she sunk back into her seat.

“It’s my fault, Em.”

“It’s not,” Emily’s voice was hard, “It’s not. You didn’t know. Reid didn’t know.

“It’s the second time.”

“Neither time was your fault.” Emily touched her cheek, “Don’t beat yourself up. They think he’s close. Robin’s got no property in his name, but Garcia is scouring the area.”

“You think we’ll find him? I mean, before—”

“We can’t think like that right now. Of course, we’ll find him.”

JJ blinked a few times, “It’s just, I know Reid wouldn’t tell Robin he’s gay. But what if he figures it out? What if he kills him?”

Emily sighed. She took JJ’s hand and rubbed her thumb across the back of it. When JJ closed her eyes, Emily did the same before she laid her forehead on JJ’s forearm. They sat like that in silence, and after a few minutes, the door came open. Hotch walked in, a grim, exhausted expression on his face. He could pass it off as being concerned for Reid, who was, as far as they knew, his brother-in-law. Hotch figured Morgan and JJ would know about Sean’s absence, but he wasn’t sure about everyone else.

“How are you?” Hotch asked as JJ opened her eyes.

“Tired,” JJ mumbled, “You?”

“Tired,” he replied, eyes flickering away for half a second before they settled on her once more, “JJ—”

“Shhh.” She brought her finger to her lips, “I actually think Prentiss is sleeping.”

“I think the case is affecting her.”

“You think?” JJ lifted her brows.

Hotch nodded. Things between them were odd, in a way. The two of them were lesser-known friends, not as close as Spencer and JJ, but something vaguely akin to Rossi and Garcia. When he got the call from the hospital, his heart had plummeted. Not only because JJ was hurt, but because only one of his agents had been admitted. Based on his ID, Robin was a man of medium height, whose strength seemed to rely upon his weight and body mass, and that worried Hotch. Spencer was thin, and he’d gotten thinner in recent months, and he just  _ couldn’t  _ overpower Robin. Hotch knew that. And he dreaded it.

“Is Morgan alright?” JJ asked.

Hotch nodded, “He hasn’t been off the phone with Garcia. You know how they are with Reid.”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll find him, JJ.”

Her eyes turned from him, “Yeah.”


	3. Him: With Spencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T/W: Explicit blood mentions. Transphobia. (Robin continues to misgender and deadname Marvin, one of his victims. )

“I have a question for you, f-g.”

Spencer was barely able to lift his head. His head hurt, as did every other inch of him. His hands were shaking, and the blood had crusted around his wounds and on his skin. Robin was in a chair across from him, wiping the blood from the metal fork he’d used. Spencer took into account the length and rust he had not noticed before. He could hardly believe it’d been stabbed into him. He tried not to think of it.

“When you sleep with men, are you usually giving or receiving?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Spencer asked, his voice hoarse.

“It’s a question. Answer it.”

“Receiving,” Spencer closed his eyes, “Though depending on my partner, I’m willing to switch things up.”

“Have you ever?”

Silence.

“Answer it.”

“No.”

“Is there a reason?”

“No.”

“Liam wasn’t like you. He was different than the rest of you queers.”

Spencer fell silent. He didn’t know what to say. This man was ill. In love with his cousin. Homophobic. Transphobic. God knows what else. Spencer had to be careful. He knew that he couldn’t accuse Robin of these things. It was alright for him to mention them, but Spencer couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He moved his wrists in the ropes a little and watched as Robin stood. He walked over to the table and returned with something. Spencer had seen it a few times, when at the dentist. In another instance, he could remember the name of it. All he could think of now was how it held his mouth open. Robin turned the crank until Spencer released a bitter sound of discomfort. Robin walked away again and returned just as fast. He held a water bottle with a top that squirted. When Spencer tasted the liquid, he knew it was just water, but he couldn’t do anything but let it fill his mouth. He couldn’t swallow with his mouth propped open, so he pushed his tongue in and out to push the water out. Robin grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, and filled his mouth with water. When he let go, Spencer hunched over and coughed. His nose and throat burned, and he squeezed his hands into fists.

“Are you angry?” Robin asked, “Are you scared?”

Spencer couldn’t talk. Robin did the same thing three more times, and when he removed the device from the agent’s mouth, he wanted nothing more than to massage the sides of his face. Instead, he got a blow from Robin. He was shocked at the brute force of the hit, he hadn’t been struck that hard since Tobias, and even then, at least he was clothed. Spencer threw up before he could stop it, all over his legs and hands, and both he and Robin made sounds of disgust. Robin scowled at him, and Spencer ignored his look. When Robin walked away Spencer watched him go. He went up a flight of stairs, making Spencer very aware that he was in a basement. Why hadn’t he realized before? Robin came back not too long after, wearing a pair of gloves and holding a bucket. Spencer closed his eyes, afraid of what was to come. When he did open his eyes, he only had a moment to look into the nozzle of the hose before water was sprayed on him. The pellets were like knives digging into old wounds, and he screamed in pain, despite his mouth absolutely aching. 

Robin dropped the hose and approached Spencer with the bucket. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut when Robin tossed the soapy water on him. He watched him pick up the sponge that had fallen by his feet, and immediately he began leaning away.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Robin asked.

“Don’t touch me.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself, bitch. You should feel honored I’m even taking the time to clean you. I should let you rot in your shit and vomit.”

“I didn’t defecate.”

“That’s hardly my point.” Robin grabbed his hair, and began scrubbing the sponge over his neck and shoulders, “I should leave you here to die. Nobody would ever find you.”

Spencer didn’t say anything. Robin wasn’t being gentle when washing his cuts, not that he would. Spencer hated when people touched him without him giving the okay. It felt like hours before Robin was done, before he pulled away, before he left Spencer shivering cold and damn near blue. Robin didn’t bother to dry him off. He just walked over to the table and continued cleaning a few of the tools he had yet to use. Spencer was drifting off when he came and sat across from him. Spencer hardly held his eyes open as Robin stared at him. 

“You ever been a rent-boy?”

“What?”

“Ever had a guy throw money at you after he’s done?”

“No.” Spencer wasn’t sure why his voice held so much bite.

“Liar. All you f-gs have done it. Abigail did.”

“Marvin.”

“What?”

“His name is Marvin.”

“You’re tied up, and you still think I’m going to listen to you?” Robin stood, “You think I give a fuck what her name was?”

“His.”

Robin hit him again, harder, and Spencer felt blood trickle down the side of his head. Robin kept going, kept throwing punches, and finally, he pulled back, breathless, blood slick and glossy on his knuckles. Spencer had been knocked out, and Robin dragged his bloodied hand through his hair before he laughed and cupped Spencer’s unconscious face.

“You better not be dead.”


	4. Forgetful: With JJ

“My throat is killing me.”

Prentiss looked up as JJ spoke, and for a moment she was quiet before she handed Jj the glass of water from the bedside table. She was careful about how she drank, and she only did so after inspecting the water as if there was something in it. Prentiss could tell it hurt her to swallow, and she would have stopped her had her doctor advised her not to drink. Both agents turned their eyes towards the door at the knock, and then the door was opening. Morgan stood there, a sleepy look on his face. He handed JJ a small teddy bear from the gift shop and waved to Prentiss.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been to Hell,” JJ sighed, “You're here to ask me what happened, aren’t you?”

“If you’re up for it.”

JJ paused. She looked at Prentiss, who nodded softly before she stood and left the room. Morgan took her place, and he was surprised when JJ reached out and took his hand. Her grip was like iron. As if she were afraid she might float away, never to be seen again. The silence between them was comforting. JJ and Morgan had never been extremely close, not like Hotch and Rossi, not like her and Reid, not like  _ Morgan  _ and Reid, and certainly not like Morgan and Garcia. The only common ground they shared between them was Spencer, and they wouldn’t be seen outside of work together, not without Spencer, who was the odd glue in their friendship.

“Tell me what you remember,” Morgan urged.

JJ sighed, “We went to Miss Carter’s house. And I remember Spence told me a secret. A reason why he’s been acting like  _ that _ . A-And I think I knocked on the door, or he did. She invited us in, I don’t think we had to threaten her. S-She was crying, I think. I can’t say for sure. Then we heard this noise in the backyard, and she told us someone else was living with her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Some guy. She said he was fourteen. Or twenty.”

“Which one, JJ?”

“I don’t  _ know _ .”

“Well, it wouldn't make sense for Reid to go missing with a fourteen-year-old boy, but we’ll look into Miss Carter’s records and see if she has any kids enrolled in school around here.”

JJ cling to his hand, “W-Wait. No, I think he was thirty.”

“JJ,” Morgan said, breathless. Desperate.

“I hardly remember anything, Derek. I hardly remember Spence even getting up. If someone hurt him, why didn’t I hear? He can’t go through this again.”

“You need to clear your head,” He touched her cheek, “This isn’t your fault. You got that? Just focus. Remember the smell, JJ. The way her house looked. What can you tell me? The littlest information helps.”

JJ screwed her brows together, “Twenty-four. He was twenty-four. He was her nephew. Miss Carter’s nephew. He was living there, I think.”

“OK,” Morgan nodded, “Her nephew, who was staying at her home. Twenty-four. But his name, JJ, have you got a name?”

“I don’t think she told us,” JJ frowned, “I can’t remember.”

Morgan knew JJ felt horrible. He didn’t want to add to her worries, but at the same time, he was scared for his best friend. He didn’t want him to turn into another one of the unsub’s victims. He didn’t want him to be written off as another statistic. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before Hotch walked in, after knocking. JJ turned her sleepy eyes towards the door, then sat up a little when Prentiss entered with a pint of something. Emily handed it to her, and JJ was pleased upon seeing it was fried rice. She took the plastic fork handed to her and dug in, realizing just how hungry she was. Prentiss sat beside her on the bed, hands folded on her lap. Hotch spoke first.

“Miss Carter is awake.” He explained, “She’s not in the best shape, but she’s willing to talk. She told us her nephew’s name. Garcia is trying to track them down.”

“How is Garcia?” JJ asked, knowing the techie cared deeply for every last one of them.

“She’s worried. Scared.” Hotch looked at her, “But she’ll be alright.”

“Do you think Spence will be alright?” JJ questioned, and the room fell silent.

“The important thing,” Prentiss paused, “Is to find him. Alive.”


	5. Forgive Me, Father: With Spencer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer tries to get through to Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW// GRAPHIC TORTURE!  
> Literally, a torture fic PLS don't read if you're triggered by mentions of blood, knives, and breaking bones.

“It’s gotta be hard,” Robin said, looking at Spencer.

In his unconscious state, Spencer had been tied to the ceiling by his wrists. His feet rested on a stool beneath him, but he was forced to stand on the tips of his toes to lessen the strain. He was tall, so it wasn’t awful, but the feeling was a little uncomfortable. Not to mention he hated how vulnerable he was to whatever Robin wanted to do. Spencer’s fear rose when Robin picked up a knife. It was a small one with a sharp blade, and Spencer recognized it as one often used to carve wood. His father had one, in his childhood, and Spencer remembered a summer when their home was filled with little knick-knacks— bears, whales, rocking chairs, and other items of the like. Robin approached him and pressed the tip of the blade at his stomach. Spencer looked down at him, his breathing ragged and hoarse, and he could barely hold back his scream as Robin cut him.

It was a series of small cuts. Small, deep cuts that burned whenever Robin breathed on them. Spencer couldn’t take it anymore. It all hurt so badly, he wished Robin would take the knife and stab him through the heart. Robin threw the knife to the side in a sudden, fluid movement, and Spencer yelped when the stool was kicked from under him, placing a wretched weight on his wrists. Robin grabbed him by the hips and yanked his body downward with an unsettling, brute force, and Spencer’s skin stretched as his arms were pulled from their sockets. The young agent shrieked rather loud, and his shout tapered off into sobs. He didn’t want to beg. He didn’t want to give Robin the satisfaction he was looking for. His main goal was to hurt Spencer. Make him feel weak. Useless. Spencer would give the man his screams and cries, but he’d be damned if he begged. Earlier, he vaguely recalled saying, ‘please’, but to what exactly, he was not sure. That all seemed like an afterthought. 

“Tell me your name,” Robin said.

Spencer frowned. Oh. He hadn’t told Robin his name. He had approached him when he was punching the tree, had accused him of killing Liam, but his name didn’t arise. The only reason Spencer knew Robin’s name was because Miss Carter had said it. Otherwise, he’d have no idea. Robin hit him in the gut, sending blinding pain through his whole form. He felt sick. Bile rose to the start of his throat, but he swallowed for fear that Robin would not be kind enough to clean him up.

“I won’t give you my name.”

Robin frowned, “I can just watch the news. They’ll mention you eventually. But you’ll be dead when they find you.”

“Is this all worth it?” Spencer asked suddenly, “Killing us, I mean? Is it worth it? I mean, God forbid your father find out.”

“What?”

“You moved in with your aunt because your father died.” Spencer sniffed, “That was the trigger, wasn’t it? You were pissed at your father for putting this idealogy in your head. And you were mad that you felt you could never act on your desires. S-So when he died, your whole world crumbled, because nothing was stopping you from sleeping with men. From being gay.”

“I’m not gay.” Robin poked his chest.

“You are,” Spencer argued, “It’s why you killed those men. They were all open and proud. All the things you couldn’t be. You were gentle with Liam at first, not because he’s family, but because you’re in love with him. You killed Marvin so brutally because your attraction to him confused you. But Marvin’s body made him no less of a man. You were angry at the men you were attracted to and the men you wanted to be.”

“Shut up!”

“The oddest thing is not knowing where I fall into your category. Are you attracted to be or do you want to be me? I doubt it’s the latter because you feel the size of my body makes it impossible for me to give another man pleasure. You’ve got these stereotypes in your head, planted there by your father, whose only plan was to convince you that gay men are disgusting. But we aren’t disgusting, Robin. You’re sick because you’re a murderer and a r*pist, not because you’re gay.”

“I’m not!” Robin hit him, and Spencer groaned.

“You  _ are _ ,” Spencer wheezed, “But there’s more to your story, isn’t there? You killed Liam in such a way, you hurt him in such a way because you were mirroring the same things your father did to you.”

“I’ll kill you,” Robin went to the table and picked up another knife, “I’ll gut you.”

“You were just a kid, weren’t you?” Spencer whispered, “When your father started touching you.”

“Shut your whore mouth. My father was a good man,” Robin’s eyes were full of tears, “He taught me well.” 

“Your father was awful. And he filled your head with awful ideas. You were hitting that tree, not because you’re trying to build up a tolerance, but because that’s how he hit you. Until he bled. Until  _ you  _ bled.”

Robin punched Spencer again, then got the stool. He stood on it and used it as leverage to cut Spencer’s wrists from the ropes. With a groan, Spencer fell to the ground with somewhat of a harsh thud. He felt helpless, lying there with his face pressed against the ground. Robin stood over him, sobbing, and then he kneeled beside him. He turned Spencer over and stared at him, angry, sick, looking far away.

“My father was a good man. He just wasn’t good for me. He was loved by everyone in our town. And that pisses me off. Why did they love him, when he did those things to me? When he neglected me? When he beat my mother?”

Spencer cringed, “You can break the cycle, Robin. You don’t have to follow in his footsteps.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have to kill you. You’re an abomination. I don’t have any other choice.”

“No,” Spencer whispered, “We can get you help. You get angry when I’m right. When I tell you the truth about who you are. You killing gay men as a gay man won’t save you from the hellfire your father scared you with. You can’t repress these emotions with violence. You can’t keep killing us.”

Robin squeezed his hand around the base of the knife, then brought Spencer’s limp form half-way onto his lap. Spencer’s legs were exhausted, spread haphazardly on the floor, and his arms were useless at this point. Robin sighed, then pushed Spencer off of him. He walked to the table, and he picked up something thick. Heavy. It was a sludge hammer, one with a wooden base and a hard metal top. Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, and Robin brought it down once against his left knee. The scream that ripped through him echoed off the walls. Robin paused for a moment, never having heard such a sound released from any of his victims, and he threw the weapon down before he sat once more, pulling Spencer’s top half onto his lap. The agent was still crying out and writhing as best he could, the pool of blood collecting under the both of them, and the cries he released only grew louder when Robin began cutting his skin. They were sharp, small, and deep little cuts that felt as though someone was carving the meat off his bones, and he began to cry as he tried to wiggle away, but he had little to no leverage, and the pain in his leg was too disorienting. He welcomed slumber with a drained feeling in his heart. 


	6. Fluidity In His Movements: With JJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch puts on an act and hates the stereotypes.

She was out of the hospital, despite her team’s assurance that she hadn’t anything to prove. She arrived at the station appearing frazzled, with her ponytail just barely secure and her eyes sunken with exhaustion. When JJ joined the others in the room they had set up, Chief Anderson, head of the case and head of P.W.A.C, looked worriedly at her.

“Agent Jareau,” he greeted, “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you. What is it that we know so far?”

There was hesitation in the room. Hotch wore a frown. Morgan and Prentiss both looked worried, while Rossi held somewhat of a grim expression. This was the second time. Would it happen again? He wasn’t there, not for the first time around, and seeing the effects a missing Reid had on the team was different from hearing about it. He trusted these people with his life— he trusted  _ Reid  _ with his life, and it was hard not having him here. Even with the hesitation, Rossi spoke.

“Robin Carter was last seen leaving Boulder. A few shop owners saw him in Henderson, so we were headed there to ask around. There’s an APB out on Robin’s red pickup,” Rossi handed her a photo. It was a traffic cam of Robin in the front seat of a beat-up old Ford. 

JJ took the photo, finally getting to look at the man who took Spencer. She let out a small sigh, and her eyes turned to Anderson as he spoke.

“So, is this guy gay or what? I mean, we’re obviously beating around the bush about this question.”

“What?” JJ said.

“Your agent. Is he gay?”

“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Hotch replied, unsure if Spencer would want this community to know, “He might have said something that triggered Robin. When people are profiled, and things they’re ashamed of are so easily figured out by another person, it can elicit a response. A violent one.”

“We have no reason to believe he’s gay,” Prentiss added, “But Robin may tell himself that Dr. Reid is in order to convince himself that what he’s doing is right.”

“For now,” Morgan began, looking angry, “We need to get to Henderson.”

Getting in the car with Anderson had to be the very last thing JJ wanted to do. She, Hotch, and Anderson all got into the same SUV, and after a few minutes, they were on the road. Traveling between towns was hard, especially when they weren’t exactly given jurisdiction anywhere but Boulder. It had to be odd for Anderson too, moving into someone else’s territory, but the team cared very little for a man like him. They visited the shop where the couple claimed to see Robin. Anderson leaned against the counter and flirted with the elder woman, and JJ glanced back when the door chimed. The man who walked in was tall, bulky, and had shaggy black hair pulled into a bun. He wore a plaid shirt with overalls and thick black boots. JJ found herself discreetly touching Hotch’s arm, and he looked at her before glancing back. Thank God they weren’t wearing their vests.

Hotch moved through the aisle and approached Robin. They exchanged a glance, and Hotch forced a chuckle and gestured the various tools.

“Say, will you help me out?”

“With?” Robin asked.

“All this. I never know which tools to use. I’ve got people waiting for me at home, expecting me to walk in like some valiant knight, ready to fix the backdoor that my kid crashed right through.”

“Shit. Your kid alright?”

Hotch laughed, “Oh, he’s fine. Tough little tyke. So, you got any idea?”

“Did you measure the pane?”

“Huh?” Hotch touched the nape of his neck, feigning a lost expression, “I’ve got no idea what you mean.”

His next movement was discrete. Fluid. He moved his hand from his neck and rested it on his hip before he placed the opposing one there as well. Robin watched the movement, and alarms sounded off in his head. Hotch hated shoving himself into the stereotype of femininity in gay men, especially when putting on a show for an unsub. He was hardly the man for this job. Even if his movements were careful and easy, he still felt as if he were stiff as a board.

“Your wife was angry?” Robin asked, his nose turned up, “Was she mad at your kid?”

“Try again.” Hotch laughed, “My husband ain’t materialistic. He was more worried about our son. Wanted to rush him to the hospital because of a little cut on his hand.”

“Your husband? Your son?”

Hotch nodded, “Yeah. Love them both to death. So, you got any idea?”

Robin swallowed, “Mhm. We’re better off at one of them big hardware stores. We can take my car. Lessen our carbon footprint.”

“I walked here anyway,” Hotch shrugged, “Came right from work.”

“Work?”

“Accounting,” Hotch gestured the suit, “It’s no fairy tale, but it pays the bills.”

Robin seemed perplexed. All of his victims had been baristas. All of them had been in college. All of them had been younger than this man who stood before him. Kidnapping that agent was out of him M.O, but if he were to take this man, kill him, people might see the break in his pattern and come after him. Still, he wanted this man dead. 

“I’ll bet.”

Hotch followed Anderson to his car. As soon as he opened the passenger side door, JJ was running out of the store with her gun tight in her hand. Anderson followed after, and Robin stopped for a moment, eyes darting back and forth. He held his wrists out to Anderson, who was careful with him in a manner that was not discrete at all. Hotch and JJ exchanged a grim look. They knew Anderson had some animosity towards the victims, no matter how much he claimed he cared. He still saw Robin as a colleague. Hotch feared what it meant for them.


	7. No Son Of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer remembers an encounter with his father.  
> Robin reveals Spencer's whereabouts.

He swore he’d lost track of the days when he opened his eyes and saw sunlight shining through the windows. His breathing was ragged and sharp. With his arms dislocated and one knee broken, he had little choice about where he might go. Once again, he welcomed sleep with the utmost coyness in his approach.

_ It had been on a Wednesday. One Spencer recalled more than anything. He had met Trevor through Ethan. They both, according to Ethan, liked a few of the same theories and authors, but he never truly went into it. Never explained very much to Spencer, but that was alright, he didn’t mind. He remembered being 16 when Trevor was pushing 17 or 18, and they didn’t mind at first. The two of them were sitting on a blanket in the backyard but the firepit and Spencer tried hard not to think about the evil he had once seen there. It was calm, waiting for the sunset, delighted in the company of one another. An approaching car was nothing new, and his mother was safe in her room. Besides, Trevor had been there during one of his mother’s meltdowns, and he had promised not to tell anyone. He knew about a lot of things. And he always promised not to tell. William came around the bend of the home just as Trevor moved his hands from beneath Spencer’s shirt, the only intention having been to tickle him, and the expression on the man’s face was what sent Trevor flying. _

_ Spencer watched him stumble back and hop the fence. Back then, it had been a trigger for him. A man of William’s size advancing towards two boys too thin for their own good was something that reminded Trevor too much of his own father. Spencer turned around as William stood there, and he scrambled to his feet, a hard look on his face. William came back now and again to retrieve things left behind, after all, Diana’s home was more like a storage unit to him. _

_ “Have you seen my tire iron? I picked up the jack and forgot the iron.” _

_ Spencer figured William would let it go. He nodded, and he and William walked into the shed. Spencer walked towards the back window and picked through a box of William’s old things, labeled ‘Dad’s Car Tools’ in a younger-Spencer’s handwriting. He handed it over, and William squeezed the base of it, the tension between them growing to the point of being unnerving. _

_ “Who was he?” _

_ “A boy from school,” Spencer chewed the inside of his cheek, “We like the sunset.” _

_ The pain that exploded on the side of his face was shocking at first. It took Spencer a moment to register that his father had hit him, with the tool of all things, and his legs shook as he dropped to the ground. It had been a while since his father hit him, he remembered last time he had been six or seven, and it was really for no good reason, not that there could ever be one. Over and over it happened until his father was holding one of his wrists and hitting him again and again, and Spencer was blinding trying to get away, blood blocking his vision.  _

_ “No son of mine!” William screamed, the tool coming down after every syllable, “You won’t be some f-g! You won’t!” _

When Spencer opened his eyes, he realized just how long it had been since he’d had such a dream. He looked towards the window nearest the top of the ceiling, and he heard sirens, but they faded away. He didn’t even know where he was, and there was no way for him to move, or even contact the team. Spencer closed his eyes as tight as he could, tilted his head back, and screamed. He screamed as loud as he could, trying not to let it taper off into sobs. He didn’t want to hurt himself or make his voice raspy, but he needed someone to find him. All the other times he screamed no one came, but he couldn’t think of that now. He had to be found. This was no place to die. 

𓆉 𓆉 𓆉

“Robin?” Morgan walked into the room, “Robin Carter?”

“What’s it to you? What is this?”

“Robin, are you aware that your aunt was placed in the hospital last night with a head injury? She was pushed by an agent she drugged, and another one of our agents went missing from your home.”

Robin rolled his eyes, “I’ve got nothing to do with her or any of that.”

Morgan sat down. “Are you also aware that your cousin was murdered? We believe he was killed by the man we have been looking for.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Where’s the agent, Robin?” Morgan leaned forward on the table, “You were seen with him last. So, where is he?”

Robin paused. Morgan did not react, even as the man began to laugh. He threw his head back and damn near cackled. He held his stomach and kept on laughing, and from behind the glass, Prentiss had to hold JJ’s arm to keep her from bursting in there. Robin leaned his elbows on the table and looked at Morgan with a sense of disgust.

“Why do you want to find him so bad? Is he your boy-toy?”

“He’s my colleague. I work with him. What makes you think our relationship is sexual?” Morgan frowned, “Are you attracted to him?”

“I’m not gay.”

“So what was different about Liam?” Morgan slid the picture of Liam’s body towards him, “Why did you assault him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then you’d be fine with giving us your DNA?”

“I’m not giving the government anything?”

“Not even a statement?” Morgan took out photos of Marvin and Cody, and placed them down, “You’re not even going to tell us your relationship with Liam?”

“No.”

“That makes you look guilty. You—”

“You’re never going to find your friend.” Robin sat back, “I had fun with him. He’s going to bleed out right where I left him.”

Morgan wanted nothing more than to slam this guy against the wall and punch him until he told him where Spencer was, but he had to calm down. Robin laughed again, and shook his head, burying his face in his hands for a moment.

“You want the truth, Agent? Fine. I killed them. All of them. And I killed your boy too.”

Morgan stared at him for a long time, before he stood up and left the room. JJ tried to stop him, but Morgan moved his arm so he could continue walking. Hotch shook his head when JJ looked at him as if telling JJ to just let him go. Hotch opened the door and looked at Robin, who glared at him.

“The fuck do you want?”

“I want to find my agent.” Hotch sat down, “And you don’t want this story in the media?”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. The headline; ‘Gay Serial Killer In Boulder’. You think I can’t make it happen?”

Even though this man had killed many others and admitted to hurting Reid, Hotch needed to threaten his fear of his sexuality to find Reid. He wouldn’t have done it, not if he didn’t think it was worth it. He knew what it was like, being afraid of your own sexuality, but just because he could relate to Robin in that aspect did not make this killer a good guy. Robin’s face morphed into fear. He would be ostracized by the community. There was a chance of him making bail, a chance of one of the members of P.W.A.C putting up the money, but there was no way they’d do it if they knew Robin was gay, much less attracted to his cousin.

“I’ll tell you where he is. If you promise to give me the minimum sentence.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, “I can’t promise that.”

“But you won’t tell anyone? Your suspicions, I mean.”

“No.”

“Fine. There’s a house in Henderson owned by a man named Douglas Murphy. He rents it out as an Airbnb on days he’s on vacation with his wife. I rent it out so much, I can get it at a moment’s notice. He’s in the basement.”

Hotch stood, and Robin grabbed his arm, “Agent?”

“What?”

Robin’s face split into a grin, “I really did have so much fun with him.”


	8. If Crying Was A Contest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resuced.

Douglas Murphy was a simple man. He lived a simple life in his suburban neighborhood, and his so-called vacations with his wife were really just nights spent at the Holiday Inn, and maybe breakfast at Denny’s, where he would sit and read to her. She had been blind for about three years now, and despite the trips only being two hours away from their home, she loved them because she loved him. They were special to Douglas, who was once a cook in a kitchen head-over-heels for the woman who came into the back sometimes to sit on the table and watch her best friend cook. It was an odd situation, one might say, but to two very simple people, their very simple meet-cute was important to them. 

Hotch could care less about that. Douglas was a talker, who didn’t seem fazed by something like an attempted murder going on in his home because he “didn’t ask guests their business”. Morgan had rolled his eyes at that. When they got to the home, Hotch was the first one tearing down the stairs, and when he saw Reid, he swore his heart bleed. The agent looked awful, but even that was an understatement. The sporadic rise and fall of Reid’s chest was the only indication of him being alive, and it was weak. Hotch approached him slowly, while Morgan screamed for the paramedics. When Hotch touched Reid’s shoulder, his eyes opened as best they could. The fear that glistened there was replaced with relief, and Hotch brushed the tears away from Reid’s face.

Popping Reid’s arms back into their sockets prompted the agent to scream as if he’d been torn apart, and JJ placed a hand on her heart in response to the guttural noise that ripped from his throat. Hotch guided Reid’s sore arms around his neck, and the blood-stained his hands and shirt, but he carried him anyway, up from the basement and to the gurney that was coming through the living room. Rossi had been the one to encourage Hotch to go with Reid, and despite Morgan feeling sour about it, he felt it best that Hotch go along as well. Garcia had called Morgan eight times since locating Douglas Murphy’s house, and finally, he got back to her to let her know that her G-Man was alive. Hurt, but alive. 

The ride to the hospital felt like it took an eternity. Hotch held Reid’s hand through it all, even as the EMT braced his knee. Reid was adamant about not taking any narcotics, even as Hotch begged him to, Reid assured he could withstand the pain; but he was fading in and out of consciousness. Hotch was first to the hospital, and the team found him pacing in the waiting room, the blood still on his hands and arms, and now on his white shirt since he’d discarded his vest to the couch nearest the door. Rossi was the first to approach. He placed a hand on Hotch’s bloodied arm, and the older agent looked at him with an expression one could only be described as terrified. It was odd to all of them. Maybe, Prentiss suspected, Hotch was worried for his brother’s husband, but then she recalled something JJ had told her about not seeing Sean around anymore. Garcia called again, so Hotch told her she could come down. The case had been solved, after all. They were holding Robin. None of them could have prepared themselves for when the doctor walked out, remanence of blood on his clothing.

“For Doctor Spencer Reid?”

When Hotch approached, the doctor’s eyes worriedly flickered to the blood, but the reassurance that it was not his own did nothing to ease the poor MD’s unease. 

“How is he?” Morgan spoke up.

“Alive. Out of surgery,” the doctor replied, “He’s lost a lot of blood, and his injuries are very severe. We were able to put his knee back together, but it won’t be the same.”

“Did—” JJ took a breath, “Was he— I mean, did he—”

“No, no, there were no signs of assault.” The doctor’s words made all the agents release sighs of relief, “Doctor Reid should make a full physical recovery.”

“Can we see him?”

“Yes, but not for too long,” the doctor glanced away, “His speech is limited due to his sore throat, but we gave him something to ease the pain.”

“He accepted narcotics?” Hotch asked,

“I insisted. Without them, he’d hardly be able to lift his arm, let alone sit up and talk.”

Hotch nodded, “We’ll go to him then. There’s also another agent arriving, later on, Penelope Garcia. We ask that you let her through as well.”

“Right, of course. One more thing.” He checked his chart, “Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?”

“That’s me. Why?”

The doctor lifted his eyes towards the agent, “I can’t allow you into my patient’s room.”

“What?” Prentiss and Rossi spoke at the same time.

“Why?” JJ asked.

“That I can’t say. I just cannot allow Aaron Hotchner into the room.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Hotch argued, “We’re his team, you can’t keep us away from him!”

“Sir–”

“No, listen! You can’t be serious! Doctor Reid is my agent, and we will be seeing him no matter what!”

“They’ll be seeing him.” The doctor gestured to the others with his pen, “You will not. I don’t want to have you removed from this hospital, agent.”

“You’re crazy! Did Spencer say that? Did he say he say he didn’t want to see me?”

“Aaron.” Rossi touched his arm, but Hotch jerked himself away.

“How could you do this? How could you keep me away from him?”

“Doctor Reid does not want t—”

“Aaron.”

The team stilled. They looked behind the doctor, towards the voice. Reid was sitting in a wheelchair, and Hotch thought immediately of the strain on his arms. He rolled forward, and the doctor went to stop him, but Reid shook his head and moved forward anyway. He reached out towards Hotch, who was at his side in seconds. Reid touched the hand that came to his knee as Hotch crouched down.

“Spencer? You didn’t want to see me?”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Spencer whispered, “I saw how scared you looked, back at that basement. I didn’t want to see that expression on you anymore. I don’t want you to be scared of me. 

“Oh, Spencer. I was just worried you might not make it. You never have to worry about me being scared of you.”

Morgan and JJ exchanged looks. Rossi looked confused, and Prentiss bated breath, as if she expected what no one else did. Morgan knew of Sean’s absence, as did JJ and Prentiss, and Rossi had heard from Hotch. The doctor looked tense, because his patient was out of bed, so shortly after surgery nonetheless. Reid reached out and touched Hotch’s face as if he did not believe he was real.

“Could you call Sean? Let him know?”

“Spencer.”

“Please? Even if he doesn’t answer. There's a chance he might come back.”

“He’s not coming back, Spencer.”

“He might,” Reid’s eyes filled with tears, “He  _ might _ .”

“He won’t. You have to let him go. You have to understand.”

Reid’s face crumpled, and he began to cry. He rested his head on Hotch’s shoulder, and the older man reached behind his back and in the inner parts of his knees. He lifted him with little effort, and the doctor cringed, but sighed and led the team back to Reid’s room. Hotch lay him on the bed, and Reid continued to cry, even as Hotch held his face and wiped away his tears. 

Rossi was the first to speak, “I hope this means what I think it means.”

“What?” Morgan looked at him.

“Come on, none of us are stupid. Hotch is obviously in love with Reid, and the kid loves him too!” Rossi gestured them, “This is like some tear-jerker in a romantic comedy!”

“Comedy,” Prentiss repeated, “Far from it. Reid? You alright?”

“Mhm.” Reid nodded, not too keen about showing his face right now.

“Well do you? Love each other, I mean.” JJ asked.

“I don’t know,” Spencer shook his head, “Isn’t that strange? Do marry one brother and then date the other?”

Hotch cringed, “It is a bit weird.”

“My mother will have questions.”

“No doubt,” Morgan sighed, then sat in the chair, “So? Does this whole thing end with you two getting together? Or do we have to go through some more tragic shit for it to finally happen?”

Hotch looked at him, then turned to Spencer, “It’s your choice.”

“Mine?” Spencer whispered, shocked, and Hotch cringed with the thought of Gideon.

“Yours.” Hotch touched his face, “All yours.”

“Alright then. Yes, it’s alright with me.”

The awkward clear of someone’s throat sent the agent's eyes to the doctor, whose face was a bright red. Reid’s eyes widened. He had thought the doctor left. He watched the man approach and reattached the morphine drip with little effort, before he left the room, but not without stumbling a little. JJ fought a smile, while Morgan broke out into a full-on laugh. Reid was embarrassed, but he looked to Hotch and gave a small smile. Hotch knew he was in pain and had been through hell, but Reid was strong. He knew he would be alright. They had nothing to worry about. Things would be alright. For them, it would be okay.

Wouldn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cue me winking so hard at the camera it fcking breaks


End file.
